Ghost of a Chance
by Predec2
Summary: Sequel to "A Haunting We Will Go." Through a case of mistaken identity, an amorous ghost latches onto Brian and won't let go. Who you gonna call? B/J Humor/Romance with some Emmett & Mysterious Marilyn mixed in. *STORY IS NOW COMPLETE!*
1. The Rubber Hits the Road

_A/N: This is a sequel to "A Haunting We Will Go," but can probably be read alone. I will post chapters regularly until it is complete. Hope you enjoy it!_

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QAF and its characters are the sole property of Cowlip Productions and Showtime. NO copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my beta, boriqua522.;)

* * *

_The boys have returned from their trip, rested and relaxed. Things have finally returned to normal...or have they?_

_Brian's POV_

I heard Justin let out what sounded like almost a sigh of disappointment as we pulled up to our home, having spent the past week banishing our demons - ghostly or otherwise - while we spent a glorious week in the backwoods of West Virginia, whitewater rafting, taking leisurely walks to admire the kaleidoscope of fall colors, fucking in the luxury cabin's Jacuzzi, fucking in the monstrously large shower, fucking on top of the plush, oval rug in front of a roaring fireplace, and fucking in the king-sized bed. Did I mention that we did a lot of fucking while we were gone?

Thankfully, our brief trip had served its purpose: Justin had seemed much more relaxed and carefree; at least he had until now. I glanced over at him, noticing he seemed to be tensing up again. "Justin..." I pressed. "What is it?"

"Nothing." He responded as he bit his lower lip, a sure sign of nervousness on the part of my favorite worrywart.

"Tell me you are not going to get all stressed out again." It had taken him a few days - and an analytical, thorough search of our cabin from top to bottom on my part - before he had totally settled down after deciding that Britin was haunted a week earlier. And now, as soon as we were home, it seemed to be starting up all over again, even though he knew the 'ghosts' had only been some very ingenuous raccoons that had infiltrated his upstairs studio. At least that's what I had led him to believe. I still was a little 'spooked' myself over that last night we had spent here at the house when that ghostly vision had appeared in our bedroom as Justin slept, totally oblivious.

Everything seemed just fine until we had retired back to bed and an ethereal-looking visitor had decided to come a-calling, a la Jacob Marley style. Maybe it was the fact that my partner had been freaking out earlier, maybe it was just the season for it, or maybe it was just that big, cavernous house; but at the time the guy sure _looked_ real enough; at least as real as you can look when you're a ghost floating two feet off the ground, carrying a lantern in your hand. I'm sure I had to have imagined the whole, damn thing, right down to the authentic period garments he was wearing and the flickering of the candle's shadows on our bedroom walls as he swung the lantern back and forth and winked at me with a smile. Yes, that was it. It had been just a total figment of my very fertile, creative imagination. After all, I WAS the best-damned advertising man on the planet, so it made common sense that I would conjure him up. Didn't it? In either case, I certainly wasn't going to let Justin know what I had 'imagined.'

"I'm fine," my partner insisted as I pressed the remote-control button to open the garage door, waiting a few seconds before I pulled inside and stopped the car to turn it off. I turned to look at him, receiving a glare when I shook my head in amusement. "I don't have memory impairment, Brian; I remember it was raccoons."

"Well?" I prodded as I opened the car door and he remained sitting there, fixed in place.

"Well, what?"

"Are you getting out?"

He huffed. "Of course I'm getting out!" I sighed as he opened up his car door and joined me in the garage, walking around the side of the car to retrieve his overstuffed tote bag and art portfolio from the back of the vehicle and handing me my own bag. He looked at me as he instructed, "You go first in case we've been overrun by the vermin infestation."

I snorted as I turned and headed over to the interior door leading into the house. As I opened it, I briefly thought I was doing a soft-shoe imitation as my feet slid a little on the salt still sprinkled on the floor. I felt Justin's hand on my shoulder as we entered, finding the house much like it normally was: quiet, except for the soft whirring and ticking of our top-of-the-line kitchen appliances and the clock over the kitchen window overlooking the backyard. Nothing seemed out of place or remiss. "Well, at least Casper and his friends didn't throw any wild parties while we were gone, apparently," I snarked as I walked further inside and placed my bag down on one of our kitchen bar stools.

Justin rolled his eyes as he placed his art portfolio and bag down on the floor and headed over to the kitchen pantry, returning a few seconds later with the broom and dustpan. "Enough, Brian," he scolded me. "I said I was fine. I know what it was now, and I'm over it, okay? Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

I rolled my tongue into my cheek as he bent over to sweep up the salt from beside the door. I couldn't help admiring the view as I told him, "Well, it was fun while it lasted. I kind of liked the clinginess." _Especially in bed; a warm, soft octopus plastered against my body was kind of hot_, I had to admit.

My sexy house frau turned around then to glare over at me. "I am _not_ clingy," he insisted, even though both of us knew better. Justin was normally one of the most courageous, brave, and independent men that I knew; but during that whole 'haunted' episode, he wouldn't leave my side. I was going to kind of miss having to be his defender; well, I suppose I would never stop doing that. I just didn't want him to think I thought of it that way, however.

He dumped the contents of the salt into the stainless steel garbage can nearby before replacing the items back into the pantry. Rubbing his palms together to remove any last salty residual, he picked up his art portfolio and bag as he walked over to me. "I'm going to go take these upstairs," he told me.

I bit my tongue before I managed to put my foot in my mouth and ask him if he wanted me to go with him as he kissed my lips briefly before heading down the hall toward the steps. Just before he started to ascend the staircase, he turned to look at me. "You coming?" he asked in a sexy tone of voice. "I'll show you _clingy_."

Grinning, with alacrity I snatched my bag from the stool before rushing to catch up with him.

* * *

_Thirty Minutes Later..._

I grinned down at my lover, flushed and sweaty in the throes of his passion. There was nothing more beautiful or alluring than Justin all aroused and thrumming with desire just before I fucked the living daylights out of him, I decided, as I reached over to slide open the nightstand drawer to retrieve a condom. My hand came up unexpectedly empty, however, as I scowled. Reaching deeper into the drawer, my fingers splayed out onto the entire bottom of the wood, but I found nothing; the narrow drawer - our sex drawer, where we always kept our box of extra-large sized condoms and an industrial-sized bottle of expensive lubricant - contained nothing but air. "Justin!" I growled, my body aching for release; the sweet release that only my partner could give me.

"What?" he panted out, his chest heaving as he stroked himself in anticipation. "Come on, Brian, fuck me already!"

"Wish I could oblige you," I muttered as I turned over and promptly flopped down on the bed. "No condoms," I reported in defeat, wondering for just a moment if I could abandon my 'I want you safe' mantra and just fuck Justin raw. Not that I didn't constantly fantasize about that - in fact, that vision wasn't helping me at all at the moment, only making me hornier - but I knew deep down I wouldn't risk that with him.

"What!?" Justin cried out. "There should an entire box in there! I just bought some before we left! Look again!"

"I did!" I growled. "See for yourself; nothing, no lube, no condoms, nothing."

Justin rolled over to twist his body around enough so he could reach inside the drawer. Obtaining the same results, he huffed in frustrated disbelief. "Come on, Brian; what did you do with them?"

"I used them to fuck an army platoon that stopped by for directions. What do you mean, _what did I do with them? _The last time I saw them, they were sitting in the drawer, right where they always are!"

Justin flopped down onto his back in disgust, his entire body craving release; the kind of release that I knew only I could provide for him. "I don't believe this! Aaargh! How can this be happening?"

"Maybe the raccoons needed nesting material."

"That _isn't _funny!" Justin shuddered; just the thought of those beady-eyed, nasty animals invading our home and being anywhere near our bedroom had to be making his skin crawl, no doubt; we already knew how crafty they could be with their hands. "Shit! You don't think they're..."

"Relax," I told him. "I had all the nooks and crannies boarded up and sealed before we left, remember? The contractor assured me there's no way they could possibly get back in here again, even through the trap door." Just before we left on vacation, we had discovered a small, built-in door cleverly hidden in a bookshelf up in Justin's attic studio; that had been how the bandits had been able to access the room and practically scare the shit out of my partner until we caught them red-handed one night.

"Well, they didn't just get up and walk out on their own. So you tell ME where they went, Stud."

"How the hell do I know?" I groused. "I told you."

"Brian, this had better not be your idea of a practical joke," Justin growled. He turned his head to peer over at me, longing written all over his face and his cock hard as a rock, just like mine. He looked over at me hopefully. "Brian, you know we could..."

"Justin," I spoke gently to him but firmly. "You know how I feel about that. I won't risk your..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled with a sigh. "Well, now that you have me all hot and bothered, at least suck me off."

"How about _me_?" I grumbled, my dick painfully reminding me that we both were suffering from that affliction. "You go first."

"Oh, right," he snarked. "Age before beauty."

I scowled at him as he rolled over and landed on top of my lower body, his head exactly where I needed it to be as he nestled it in my pubes. I was about to retort with some snappy comeback (even though I hadn't actually thought of one yet) when I soon felt Justin's wet, hot lips encasing my cock, and my rebuttal promptly died on my lips. I arched my hips upward to push in deeper as he fondled my balls with one hand and grasped the base on my dick with the other, his longer hair tickling my skin as he expertly set to work.

It didn't take long for me to shoot my load down his throat; of course, that was nothing unusual when Justin was involved. I returned the favor as we - yes, I'll admit it silently - snuggled up together a few minutes later, not exactly satisfied but at least placated.

"Get some sleep, Sunshine," I murmured as I wrapped my arm around his slender waist. "I'll go out and buy a warehouse supply of condoms tomorrow." Silently I thought that perhaps - one day - we wouldn't need any at all.

"You'd better," he whispered as his eyes fluttered closed, mine soon following.


	2. Mine

_The odd goings-on continue back at Britin. Does Justin have some unearthly competition for his partner's affections?_

* * *

The next morning - after a remarkably peaceful night's sleep - I gently disentangled myself from Justin's embrace to head into the shower to get ready for work, figuring there would be a shitload of problems to address, despite leaving my 'baby' in the somewhat capable hands of Ted and Cynthia. Feeling refreshed and fully dressed thirty minutes later, I resisted the urge to run my fingers through the soft, tousled mop of blond hair splayed out on the pillow nearby as I quietly crept out of the room in search of some much-needed java to jolt me fully awake.

I was sitting in one of the overstuffed, leather armchairs in our study, sipping my coffee and perusing the business section of the _Pittsburgh Chronicle_ when all of a sudden I heard Justin yelling my name.

"Brian! Get your ass up here!" was the none-too-affectionate directive. Sighing, I calmly placed my coffee cup and paper down before heading back up to our bedroom. I frowned as I walked in and noticed the bed empty.

"Justin?"

"In here!"

I could hear my partner uttering a spate of profanities as I approached the steamy bathroom.

"What?" I smiled knowingly as I walked toward the partially -ajar door. "I hate to disappoint you, Sunshine, but I'm already dres..." My words trailed off, however, as I pushed the door open wider and noticed the condensation covering the large, bathroom mirror where one word had been scrawled across the middle: "_Mine_."

"You're a regular, fucking comedian," Justin growled from his place nearby, his arms crossed across his chest; it was obvious from the damp hair and the towel draped around his hips that he had just gotten out of the shower instead of asking me to join him. "That scared the shit out of me! I hope you're happy, Brian. What happened to me not getting all stressed out again? This isn't helping. Or are you going to tell me that the raccoons all of a sudden learned how to write in cursive?"

My mouth hung open. "I didn't write that," I stammered. _What the fuck?_

"Sure you didn't," Justin retorted. "The condensation pattern just happened to swirl into understandable English by magic. Although I must admit - it's more legible than your handwriting normally is."

I bristled. "I'm telling you, Justin, I did NOT write that! I was downstairs. I didn't even know you were awake yet, much less taking shower," I pointed out. I looked back over at the word now slowly disappearing amidst the whirr of the exhaust fan. "How do I know YOU didn't do it? Looks like an artist has had a hand in it to me."

My partner huffed. "You are fucking unbelievable! Why in the hell would I write that?" He sighed melodramatically at me. "Just go! Go to work and leave me alone!"

I rolled my eyes. "Gladly, Oh Queen. I'll pick up your award from the Academy of Arts and Sciences on the way home so you can proudly display it on the mantle downstairs. Want me to pick up a copy of _Ghostbusters_, too, at the Big Q and some spirits to go with dinner, dear?"

"Why not? And while you're at it, pick up a copy of _Ghost,_ too, in the bargain bin, since you'll need an inspiration to jack off to later tonight - _alone_."

I grinned as my partner scowled over at me. Justin didn't really mean that...did he? I didn't like the sound of that, even if it DID involve a young, sexy Patrick Swayze, especially when I had a young, sexy partner instead in the flesh. "We'll see about that," I told him with more smugness than I felt as I turned around and headed down the hallway, whistling the theme song to _Ghostbusters _for good measure. _I ain't 'fraid of no ghosts..._

* * *

_Thirty Minutes Later_

"Fucker," Justin muttered as he took several minutes to completely wipe the bathroom mirror dry before heading into the bedroom to don a pair of well-worn jeans, a gray tee shirt, and one of his oversized, denim painting shirts. He couldn't believe Brian could be so insensitive as to mock him about his fear of everything that 'went bump in the night' in their home. After all, the house had to be, what? One hundred, one hundred fifty years old? Now that he thought about, he was surprised that neither of them had ever done any real research on the house. Perhaps that was something he would have to investigate. Or then again, maybe it was best he didn't know.

"Get a hold of yourself," Justin berated himself as he rolled his eyes. Brian was just being his typical, snarky self and was milking his previous anxieties for all they were worth. Deciding it was time he showed those raccoons, his partner - and his irrational fears - just who was the boss, he turned and headed toward the doorway. Making a right-hand turn toward his studio, he paused at the end of the hall as he came to the narrow door leading up to the attic. Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and slowly headed up the well-worn, wooden steps, relieved that the two skylights that the contractors had installed when the room had been remodeled were presently bathing the room with some much-welcomed sunlight, making the area appear much less sinister than the last time he had been there.

He stopped, though, as he noticed something unusual - and instantly recognizable - at his feet. There, leading up to the upper floor, was a trail of condom packets - the same brand as the box that had gone missing from their nightstand drawer. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed. They were placed precisely in the center of each step, almost as if they were mocking him by their regimentation. Stooping down to pick up one of the flat, opened packages, he scowled. By the time he had reached the top step, he had collected twelve of them - all empty and constituting the exact number in the box that had gone mysteriously missing. He sighed in aggravation. "Ha, ha, Brian," he muttered as he scrunched them up and threw them in one, big wad into a nearby trashcan.

Deciding he was not going to let his partner fluster him, he walked over to his work area to reach for his paints and other supplies up in the file cabinet; a few minutes later, he was absorbed in his newest work, a painting that had been commissioned by a new and upcoming restaurant that was about to open soon in the downtown Pittsburgh area, completely oblivious to his every move being silently watched.

* * *

_Brian's POV _

I idly drummed my Montblanc pen against my desk, trying hard to concentrate on the newest ad campaign for Orbit Electronics, but finding my mind occupied on the events from earlier. I wasn't about to tell Justin what I suspected was going on at Britin; in fact, the whole possibility was patently absurd.

But I know what I did or did not do - and I had had nothing to do with either the missing condom box, nor with the one-word message that had been scrawled on the bathroom mirror. That only left two alternatives: either Justin was playing practical jokes on ME - which meant if he was, he was a hell of an actor - or, and I could barely even consider the thought - our house was, indeed, haunted. Was it possible that I had, in fact, seen an actual ghost that night? Despite vehemently being against the notion, what other possibility could there be? Someone broke into our house while we were on our trip, simply for the express purpose of stealing a box of condoms? Even so, that wouldn't explain the cryptic message left on our bathroom mirror. It wasn't written in lipstick, or even with soap; it had been written in the condensation created by the shower Justin had just taken. There was no way that could have been written anytime other than just minutes - if not seconds - before I had arrived in the bathroom. Was I really willing to go there?

Sighing, I picked up my cellphone and dialed the one-digit speed number, waiting impatiently as the phone rang once, then twice, until finally...

"Ichabod Crane Residence."

I grinned; at least someone's mood seemed to have lightened somewhat since our rather terse parting earlier. "I knew you always had a good head on your shoulders." I paused for a moment, not wanting to overly stress my partner out, but needing to make sure nothing else had happened since I had left. "Uh...Everything okay there?" I asked quietly.

I heard a distinctive huff on the other end. "Everything's fine, Brian. Why wouldn't it be? It's been nice and quiet here, ever since you left to go to work. Gee, I wonder why? Oh, and the condom trail was a nice touch...but such a big waste. Bread crumbs would have been a lot cheaper, but then again, ad men always have to be so flamboyant, don't they?"

I frowned. "Huh?"

"Brian, come on! You're not that dense."

I closed my eyes briefly. "What the fuck are you talking about, Justin?" I asked tiredly, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Justin sighed on the other end. "Okay, if that's the way you want to play it," he replied as if he were talking to a little child. "When I opened the door heading up to my studio, lo and behold, what did I find? I nice trail of opened condom packets, one on each step, leading upstairs. Twelve in total; the exact total amount that had been in the box of condoms that was missing from our nightstand. Does any of this ring a bell? Hopefully you at least kept the condoms - although I don't imagine you'll need them for a while around here - if at all."

My mouth hung open; this was getting stranger and stranger. Still, I couldn't help retorting indignantly, "Surely you know me better than that! I would be the _last _person to waste a box of jumbo-sized condoms."

"Well, now that I give it some thought, who said you wasted them?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I shook my head in exasperation over his childishness and insecurity. "Yeah, you caught me," I told him. "I'm collecting them to have a water balloon fight with Gus when he comes to visit." There was dead silence on the other end of the phone. Why had I called again? "Justin...this is really getting old."

"Well, speaking of which, I guess old habits die hard, don't they?"

I rolled my eyes. "Justin, what...? You have GOT to be kidding! I am only going to say this once. I did NOT use an entire box of condoms to go fuck a dozen tricks! Where - and I should point out, when - would I have had the opportunity? Have you forgotten we were together on our trip? Do you think I sneaked out of our cabin each night and fucked them in a cave somewhere while you were dead to the world?" More silence. "Justin?"

"Do you have to put it that way?"

I sighed heavily. "Justin, come on!" I waited impatiently, hoping my normally intelligent partner would come to his senses. Finally, a little light at the end of the tunnel.

"Well...The whitewater tour guide _was_ hot," my partner finally admitted.

I smiled. "Yeah, very hot. But also not worth it for what I would lose in the process; you know that," I told him softly. Truthfully, I hadn't fucked another guy in months, and I didn't intend to. For years, the 'thrill of the hunt' had been fun. But I had eventually found out that Justin was enough for me; _more_ than enough. Probably had something to do with that whole 'love' bullshit, but I refused to consider that possibility. I only knew I was no longer interested anymore. My partner knew I still liked to window shop, but that was as far as it went. I looked but didn't touch.

"Brian..." I could hear the wheels turning inside my partner's head now, and I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. "If you didn't take the condoms and you didn't write on the bathroom mirror, then that only leaves one option. Oh, my God!"

"Justin..."

"Shit, Brian! I was right! The house IS haunted!"

I let out a deep breath; Justin wasn't going to like my answer; hell, _I _didn't like my answer, either. "Maybe you're right."

"What?!"

"I said...maybe you're right. Maybe it IS haunted."

"Fuck! I'm out of here!"

I laughed, which in hindsight was not a good idea. "Justin, don't be such a prima donna..."

"A prima donna? Easy for YOU to say; you're...you're not standing inside this mausoleum right now! I think it just got colder in here, too! I'm leaving!"

"Leaving? Where are you _going_? To a ghost town?"

"Ha, ha! I don't _care_ where! No, on second thought..."

"Justin..."

"I'm going into town. You can meet me later at the Historical Society."

"The Historical Society?" I frowned. I didn't know our burg of a town HAD a Historical Society.

"Yeah. Over on Oak Street near the bank. I need to know what we're up against."

"What? You going to look in the _Who's Who of Great American Spooks?"_

"Yeah, maybe; something like that. Just get done with what you're doing and meet me there, okay?"

_Oh, brother. _I had to admit I couldn't think of any other reason for what I had seen - and what had been happening - but there HAD to be another explanation - didn't there? Perhaps explaining I had had a visitor before we had left to go on our trip wasn't such a great idea after all. "Okay, okay...I'll cut out early and meet you there. We can make it a movie night; how about _The Phantom Menace, _too?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me. I'll pick up TWO boxes of condoms, too."

"Signing off now, Brian."


	3. The Captain and the Woodsman

_Justin discovers some startling information about his and Brian's home._

* * *

The Martinsburg Historical Society was housed in an old, Victorian house near the main part of town. As Justin pulled up in the small, gravel parking lot, he couldn't help wondering if the foreboding, tall, white structure with black shutters could possibly be housing one or two spooks of its own. Nevertheless, his desire to find out more about his and Brian's house triumphed over his uneasiness as he disembarked from his SUV and walked up to the small stoop to push open the heavy, wooden door. A bell clanged over the top of the door frame as he entered a compact foyer; to the right of the high-ceilinged room was a narrow staircase with a polished, curving, wooden bannister, and the scent of some type of incense immediately assailed his nostrils. A petite, elderly woman sat behind a desk located in an alcove under the stairs. Her white teeth contrasted dramatically with her bright, red lipstick as she smiled, rhinestone-laden glasses secured around her neck by a crystal spectacle chain.

"May I help you, young man?" she asked, her piercing, sky-blue eyes boring into his and making Justin feel a little uncomfortable by their intensity. Her smile, however, appeared genuine as he nodded.

"Uh, yeah. I need some help with researching a house I'm living in; I mean the history of it. Do you do that here?"

She rose from her chair stiffly, holding onto the edges of the desk with her wrinkled, ring-laden hands. "Of course. Come with me." She walked around from behind the desk toward Justin and extended her hand. "Phyllis Montague."

Justin lightly shook her hand, afraid if he was too forceful he might break a couple of finger bones. "Justin Taylor."

She nodded. "This way." She slowly began to walk toward the staircase, gripping the thick, wooden bannister as she began to ascend the steps in an excruciatingly slow tempo. "Not as limber as I used to be," she told Justin apologetically as Justin nodded. It seemed to take years before they finally reached the upper landing, each step creaking underneath them as they ascended.

Justin had to pause for just a second on the upper level to admire the architecture of the older home, noting the meticulous details that had been incorporated into its creation. From the intricate, carved spindles of the bannister, to the rounded, stain-glass window nearby, and the myriad of older, character portraits hung at regular intervals on the walls and the incredibly high ceiling, it was obvious every detail had been well thought out. He had to admit - he had always appreciated older homes, including Britin, for both their uniqueness as well as their character. At least until recently; of course, that was why he was here. To hopefully find out more about Britin and why it had become less than a pleasant residence as of late.

"Mr. Taylor?" A soft voice broke him out of his reverie as he turned to nod at his guide. "It's a lovely, old home, isn't it?" she asked, used to many visitors having the same reaction. She cocked her head toward at an imposing portrait of a stern-looking man nearby. "That was the original owner of the house, Percival Oaten," she told him. "Owned several hundred acres around here in the late 1700's before the town was developed. Supposedly a very crotchety, old man, too, from what I've heard. But a very shrewd businessman."

Justin nodded in acknowledgment, more interested actually in the painting technique than the subject itself. "It's nice to preserve the history of a place," he commented politely as the older woman smiled in agreement.

"Yes," she agreed. "I hate it when the older homes are torn down. Once they're gone, they can't ever be resurrected. I think that's why I like this job so much." Justin nodded at her in understanding as they proceeded down the hallway to a room at the end. "Here we are."

The room was filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and was in an octagonal shape; tall windows alternated between the bookshelves, and a large, antique, oak, rectangular-sized table was perched in the middle of the room that immediately drew attention; there was an old-fashioned microfiche machine sitting in one corner.

"Now...tell me more about the home you're interested in researching."

Justin nodded as he looked around at all the bookshelves. "Well...my partner purchased it a few months ago, but neither one of us really know much about it. It's out on Route 37, kind of sitting off by itself."

She nodded, well aware of pretty much every part of the county. "Yes, there're a lot of older, stately homes out in that area. Tell me more about it."

"Well, it's a large Tudor home on fifteen acres, and it sits back from the road with a curved driveway. It's a two-story with a stable and carriage house out back; and it has a wrought-iron gate surrounding the entire property..." He smiled as his eyes lit up. "The gate at the entrance is really amazing; it has these two ships etched into the doors that swing open..." That gate had quickly become one of Justin's favorite elements when he had had time to examine the property more closely after Brian had first shown it to him, in fact; he had been astounded by the detail work and care that had been taken with what normally would be just a utilitarian structure to most people.

"Oh, my God!" Phyllis shrieked then, startling Justin with her reaction. "You're living at the site of the Drake Estate?"

Justin frowned. "The Drake Estate?"

"2347, right? That's your street address? 2347 Route 37?"

Justin's eyes grew large. "Yes," he told her with surprise. "That's right."

She bit her lip. "I didn't realize that had been sold again."

"Again...?" Justin didn't like the way she had phrased that for some reason. "What do you mean, again?"

The older woman stared at him for a few seconds with her beady, little eyes before donning her glasses, the rhinestone chain reflecting off the light above. "Let's sit down, shall we? I have a lot to tell you."

Justin reluctantly followed her over to a window seat to turn and face her, wondering why that statement unsettled him. He barely waited until they were sitting facing each other before he pressed, "What exactly do you know about it? Tell me."

Phyllis took a deep breath. "Well, let's start with the basics. The home you are living in is actually the second one to be built on that property. Hold on," she told him as she slowly rose from his side and shuffled a few steps over to a nearby bookshelf. She seemed to know precisely which book to locate as she reached over and pulled out a large, red, leather-bound tome and walked back over to Justin's side.

Justin peered at the book now resting in her lap, noticing gold-leaf words on the front. Even upside down, he was able to make out the word "_DRAKE ESTATE_" written in fancy script. "That's a book about our house?" he asked, observing that it appeared to be at least one-inch thick and was trimmed in the same gold decoration around the edges.

Phyllis nodded as she opened it up to the first page. "Yes, Nathaniel Drake was very affluent at the time, and spared no expense with anything he did, including commissioning a book to be written and illustrated about his custom-made home as a memento." She slid the book over to Justin, who gazed down at the front page in fascination. The home looked nothing like Britin did now; it was a grand, Victorian two-story, somewhat familiar in design with this home, but was more ornate outside and lushly landscaped than the one housing the Historical Society. Scrolled, wrought iron ringed the entire property, which reflected a wide, front porch running across the entire façade. "This was the original home?" Justin asked, finding himself captivated by the history despite the reason why he was there.

The curator nodded. "Yes. Nathaniel Drake made all of his money in the shipping business near Bedford, Connecticut. He had been a sailing captain for years before he was afflicted with some sort of debilitating illness and was forced to stop. He apparently maintained his love of the sea, however, because when he commissioned the house to be built, he incorporated a lot of features into the home that were reminiscent of the sea and New England architecture, including the widow's walk you see there."

Justin frowned. "Widow's walk? What's that?"

Phyllis pointed to the top of the home. "It's that tallest structure on the rooftop," she informed him. "Normally they had fencing or wrought iron enclosing them, and had a cupola. They were very fashionable in the late 19th century, and were called widow's walks because oftentimes wives waiting for the return of their husbands would use them to literally gaze out at sea, hoping to see their lover returning to them. They were colloquially known as widow's walks, because too often their husbands would be lost at sea and would never return, hence turning them into widows."

Justin felt inexplicable sorrow over that statement. "I guess back then being a captain on a ship was pretty dangerous."

She nodded at him. "Yes, it definitely was. Anyway, Captain Drake spent several thousands of dollars - which was a fortune back then - having the home constructed with seafaring touches, such as the wrought-iron ship designs that are still at the gate, louvered shutters to let in the breeze at night, dolphin fountains in the gardens, and even stone walkways constructed of sea pebbles and shells that he had arranged for workers to collect from New England." She pointed to various features of the home with one, long, manicured finger. "Even the decorative brackets under the eaves were cut with marine designs. Everything was top-notch and of the highest-quality material back then."

Justin was intrigued, both by the artistic details inherent in the house as well as by the tale his companion was weaving. "Was Captain Drake married? Any children?"

Phyllis shook her head. "No, there was never any evidence of that. Captain Drake, for all his wealth and prominence, was mainly a recluse in that house, except for one gentlemen who called on him regularly."

"A gentleman?" Justin's ears perked up. _Interesting..._

Phyllis nodded. "Yes, he was referred to as a good friend of his. His name was Asa Wilcox. Very dashing gentlemen - dark hair, brooding good looks, tall, slender. Story was he would call on Mr. Drake several times a week when he was in town."

"What did he do for a living?" Justin asked. "Was he in the shipping business, too?"

Phyllis shook her head. "No, from what I have gathered, Mr. Wilcox was a lumber magnate. His family had built several of Mr. Drake's ships, and the two of them had grown up together as friends. They had apparently known each other for years, and when Captain Drake became weakened by his illness, Mr. Wilcox would visit him whenever he was in the area. He did quite a bit of traveling in hopes of convincing others to utilize his family's hardwoods for use in constructing buildings or ships or furniture."

Phyllis carefully leafed through a few pages until she found what she was looking for. "Here," she murmured. "Here's a photo of Mr. Wilcox. It's not a very clear one, but it's the only one known to be in existence, and at least you can get a fairly good idea of how handsome he was."

Justin gasped as he looked at Captain Drake's 'friend.' He could have been Brian's twin.

"Something wrong?" Phyllis asked, concerned.

Justin swallowed hard. "No...No, I'm fine. It's just that...he resembles someone I know, and it kind of took me by surprise."

Phyllis nodded. "Well, they always say everyone has a doppelganger; a paranormal double of a living person," she added by way of explanation.

Justin nodded as he continued to stare at the grainy, black-and-white photo. "You said they were old family friends?"

"That was the standard explanation," she replied somewhat mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" Justin probed, extremely curious.

"Well, as I mentioned Captain Drake never married or had any children, and this was his only visitor when he became a recluse. Even though such talk was whispered among the townsfolk and never said aloud, it was strongly rumored that Mr. Wilcox was much more than just a family friend."

"You mean he was the captain's lover."

Phyllis shrugged, seeming a little uncomfortable. "Yes," she told him simply. "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Taylor. I don't have any objections to that sort of thing. It's just back then it wasn't spoken about publicly. But that was the consensus in whispered circles."

Justin understood, but couldn't help feeling sorrow over that fact. "Is there a photo of Captain Drake in here, also?"

Phyllis nodded. "Look a few pages back. There's a black and white photo of him and his dog on board one of his ships, just before he became ill and moved here, along with a portrait that was done of him."

Justin gingerly turned the pages, almost feeling like the heavy book in his hands was sacred, as he came to the picture the woman was describing. The man was steering the ship, his face turned out to sea with a scruffy-looking dog sitting watch beside him as he smoked a pipe. The man appeared to be in his 40's and looked quite robust. "He appears healthy here," he pointed out.

Phyllis sighed. "Yes, he does. But it wasn't too long after that - within a year, I'd say - that he was mainly relegated to a wheelchair on the first floor of his estate. It was said that Mr. Wilcox would come and wheel him out to the front porch so he could at least enjoy looking at the grounds and inhaling the scent of all the flowers he liked to cultivate. It was probably the closest he could come to being near the sea again. I imagine he missed it terribly, though; I used to live near Philadelphia, and the sea gets into your blood."

Justin nodded as he finally lifted his eyes to gaze into hers. "How...how did he die, and what happened to his house?" he whispered. "Obviously it's not the same house my partner and I live in now."

She shook her head sadly. "No, soon after Captain Drake died, the house was razed by the new owner and the home now standing there was built. It is much different as you can see from the one that the Captain had constructed. He died at the turn of the century from his illness. Of course, everyone who had ever known him turned out for his funeral then, probably in hopes of getting part of his vast wealth that he had accrued. But he left all of it to his friend, Mr. Wilcox. It was said, however, that Mr. Wilcox couldn't bear to live in the house where he and the Captain had spent so many hours together, so he returned to New Bedford to live out his remaining years until he died about two decades later."

Justin nodded, feeling inexplicably sad. "Where was the captain buried and how old was he when he died?" he whispered as he stared down at the portrait.

"He died when he was 45. And as with a lot of families back then, he was buried on the grounds of his old home."

Justin's eyes grew wide. "He's buried on the grounds of _our_ home? Where?" He had never seen any indication of that; of course, he and Brian hadn't explored every inch of their property, either.

She nodded. "Yes, back in the far, left, rear corner of the estate is where he is rumored to be buried. It's supposed to be a small patch of grassy field near a large oak tree, protected by another wrought-iron fence. For some odd reason, there was never a marker actually placed there per his wishes. Maybe he thought if he couldn't be buried at sea, lying in an unmarked grave was the next, best thing to resting at the bottom of the ocean. But if you look hard enough, you might find some of the seashells that were placed on the grave itself."

"Wow, I never knew," he told her. "What about the owner who bought it after he died? What about him?"

"Well, his story is much less glamorous," she told him. "A man who had secured riches in the railroad business bought the estate after the captain died and had it razed shortly afterward so he could build the large Tudor home that you know reside in. Once the building was finished, he moved in along with his wife and daughter, who never married. They all lived there until one by one they died of natural causes. There was no one left to hand the home down to at the time of the daughter's death and she was in a nursing home by then. So it was put on the market. It's only been for sale once since then, so you are only the second owners of the Tudor home. I bet your partner got a very shrewd deal out of it, too," she added unexpectedly.

Justin frowned. "Why do you say that?" He noticed the woman appeared uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Mrs. Montague?" he pressed when she didn't immediately respond.

She sighed. "Well...the home had been on the market for years because no one wanted to purchase it, even after the price had been greatly reduced."

"Why? It's a beautiful home," Justin replied. It was also monstrously huge, too, but despite its size no one could deny that it wasn't elegant and magnificent. Somehow, though, he already knew what she was going to say before she could answer, and he also knew he wasn't going to like it. "Mrs. Montague?" he repeated.

The woman let out a deep breath. "The story is that no one was interested in buying it, because they were afraid that is was, it was..."

"...haunted," Justin completed before she could finish. The woman looked at him in shock.

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "How did you know?"

Justin gazed out of the window as he told her quietly, "That's the reason why I'm here in a way."

"Oh, my God! You mean...?"

He turned to stare over at her and nodded. "It's kind of a long story..." He spent the next several minutes recounting what had occurred at the house, beginning with the raccoons and ending with the mysterious goings-on that had happened since he and Brian had returned, even though it was a little embarrassing explaining about the condoms. To her credit, however, Phyllis merely smiled as he told her about it.

"I know it sounds crazy," he concluded. "But if Brian didn't do it, then..."

"No," she told him firmly. "I don't think it's crazy at all. I believe when spirits are restless and unsatisfied, they will return to the place they are familiar with until they get what they want."

"You really think it could be this captain roaming around our house, then because he's unhappy about something? But it's not even the same house!" Justin reminded her.

"Maybe that's what he doesn't like," she told him. "Maybe he didn't like the fact that the house was razed for a new one. It could be any reason, though; it might not even be him. Have you actually seen him? It could even be a her, for that matter, and not even related to the Captain."

Justin shook his head. "No, I've never seen anyone - and I don't want to, either," he told her with a shudder. He sighed. "I never thought I would ever believe in ghosts," he confided. "But I'm beginning to wonder now. Brian and I love our house," he told her, pressing his lips together firmly. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to let some spook run us out of there!" He rubbed his hand across his face. "I can't believe I'm even saying this, but there has to be something we can do to appease him."

"Well, there _are_ some things you can try," she told him. "Salt around the door for one..."

"Tried that," Justin told her tersely. "Apparently he's on a salt-free diet, because it didn't faze the fucker."

She laughed. "Well, there're some other things you can try." For the next few minutes, the petite woman offered several other options as Justin hurriedly scribbled them down onto a piece of paper she supplied for him, not stopping to think about how absurd it all was.

They were just finishing up when the bell downstairs clanged over the entrance, signifying another visitor. Justin found himself tensing up momentarily, even though he knew it was totally irrational, until he heard his name being called and he sighed in relief.

"Justin? You here?"

"I'm upstairs, Brian," he told his partner. "Last room at the end," he told him as heard Brian's footsteps coming up the stairs, the creaking noise instantly giving him away.

"Your partner you were talking about?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah, I asked him to meet me here after he got out of work."

Phyllis nodded as she waited for the other man to come upstairs. A gasp erupted from her lips shortly, however, as she got her first glimpse of him. "My God, he's the spitting image of Asa Wilcox!" she cried out as Brian stood there in the doorway. "I see what you were talking about now. It's amazing."

Justin had to smile at the confused look on Brian's face. "I'll explain what she means," he told him as Brian walked inside to join them. "You're not going to believe this," he told him. "Have a seat."


	4. Ghoul of My Dreams

_Brian comes clean about the first time he saw the ghost; the boys begin to develop a plan to combat Brian's arduous suitor. Will it work, though?_

* * *

_Fifteen Minutes Later...Brian's POV_

From my place next to Justin's side, I listened as Phyllis Montague filled me in on the background information regarding the former owner of our home and his friend/suspected lover; I was able to keep my composure even as Justin showed me the remarkable resemblance between me and Asa Wilcox - grudgingly admitting that there was, indeed, some similarity between us. But when Justin flipped to the page where the Captain's photo was, I promptly flipped out as well. "Shit! That's him! Errol Flynn!" I cried out before I realized what I was revealing and promptly closed my mouth back up. My partner, of course, being the smart little fucker that he is, immediately picked up on it, however.

"What the hell are you talking about_?_" Justin asked me as he lifted his gaze to stare pointedly into my eyes.

"Uh..." Once more my glibness failed me to my consternation as I managed to say, "I just mean that it's the owner of the house, just like you mentioned before. I was _wanting_ to see a picture of him...he looks kind of like Errol Flynn. You know, _Robin Hood_? _Captain Blood_?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know who the actor is! But that's not what you meant. You acted just now like you knew this guy already. Brian, what aren't you telling me?" Two sets of piercing, blue eyes - one young, one bespectacled - fixed on mine as I felt myself sweating.

I sighed heavily. "Okay, okay," I mumbled. "You remember that night before we left on our trip? That night we found out about the raccoons?"

Justin nodded.

"Well...after you went to bed, I was still awake. I was just about to go to sleep when..." I tugged at the corner of my collar, feeling suddenly extremely hot, only not because of my incredibly good looks. "Well, I thought it was just my imagination at the time," I tried to explain. "That's why I didn't tell you."

"Tell me WHAT?" Justin demanded.

"I saw him," I finally blurted out. I glanced down at the faded photo. "I saw the captain in our room."

"What?! You saw this man in our room?"

"Yeah, that's what I said!" I replied a little defensively. "He had on a pair of breeches or something and a ruffled kind of tacky coat like Paul Revere and was sort of floating off the ground with this lantern in his hand. He was swinging it back and forth and creating shadows on the wall. And...And then he fucking _winked_ at me before I closed my eyes! When I opened them back up, he was gone, so I just figured I had imagined the whole thing."

"Oh, that's great!" was the unexpected, delighted reply from Phyllis Montague as both Justin and I turned to stare over at her in disbelief. She had moved to the desk chair and was facing toward the window seat as she bounced up and down in excitement. "You are _so_ lucky!"

"Excuse me?" I asked, not sure I had heard her right. "Lucky?"

She nodded. "Do you know how many people would kill to have an encounter with a ghost?"

"Do you have to use the word 'kill'?" Justin asked, sounding a little anxious now. I reached over to slide my arm comfortingly around his waist.

"Sorry," Phyllis mumbled an apology. "I just mean that it's extremely rare to actually be able to see a ghostly presence, much less interact with one."

"I didn't _interact_ with him," I pointed out. Truthfully, I was too fucking scared at the time to move a muscle at all, although I would never utter that thought aloud. "I just lay there in bed."

"Well, you did in a way," she told me. "You said he winked at you."

"Well...Yeah, I thought I noticed him doing that," I agreed. "And he smiled at me, too," I added as an afterthought.

Justin shook his head. "Great...You're hot to them whether they're dead OR alive."

I smiled. "Well, what can I say?" I asked with a shrug as Justin promptly smacked me on the chest.

"Brian, this isn't funny! We apparently have some guy floating around our house trying to make a move on you!" Justin's eyes got wide as saucers as he exclaimed in realization, "Oh, shit! That would explain the missing condoms and the note on the mirror. He wants you, Brian! And he wants me gone so he can move in...Or move BACK in!"

"The note on the mirror?" Phyllis asked, intrigued.

"I forgot to mention that to you," I heard Justin explain. "When I got out of the shower this morning, there was a word written on the condensation of the bathroom mirror. It said "_mine_." At the time I thought it was just Brian playing a stupid, practical joke on me, but now..." I felt him shiver next to me. "I'm telling you, this spook has the hots for you. He thinks you're his long-lost lover, and he's coming back to claim you."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Sunshine," I told him, not even thinking about the affectionate nickname that fell so smoothly from my lips. I noticed Phyllis peering at me in amusement as I told him, "That's just plain crazy."

"Well, how do YOU explain it?" he asked me. "Makes perfect sense to me." I rolled my eyes at the nonsensical statement as Justin's lower lip jutted out in defiance. "Well, he can fucking forget it. I'm not giving you up - even if he does think you're drop-dead gorgeous."

I frowned briefly. I wasn't so sure about that 'drop-dead' part; that sounded so...ominous. Curling my lips under, I told Justin, "Well, I'm glad to hear that, because personally I much prefer a warm, _living _body in my bed."

"Gee, thanks," Justin retorted as I grinned. "I'm glad I qualify."

Phyllis cleared her throat, apparently a little uncomfortable with the direction our conversation was heading. "Well, I agree with Justin," she told me. "He is obviously attracted to you, Brian. And until you determine what will appease him and make him happy, I don't think he has any intention of leaving."

"Well, if that's the case, where's he been for the past few months? He only started showing up about two weeks ago," I reminded both of them.

"Hard to say," Phyllis told us. "He may have been lying low, so to speak, maybe staying in the carriage house or the stables and just recently sensed a new presence in the house. After all, it wasn't the house he built, and maybe he didn't really feel that comfortable there. But when he found out that you looked like his long-departed Asa, I guess it stirred up a lot of emotion in him. Ghosts still retain their emotional attachments, even in their incorporeal state."

"Huh?"

"She means even without a physical body," Justin explained helpfully.

"Great," I muttered as I rubbed my hands on my thighs in agitation, noticing it was soon going to be dark. I dreaded the thought of going back into that house now; if this woman was even halfway correct, it might well be a very long night. I wasn't particularly interested in a threesome in this case, either, although it would certainly be one I hadn't tried yet. I sighed. "So what do we do to make this guy happy? There isn't exactly a ghost matchmaking service in town. And I guess "BOO!" wouldn't scare him off."

"No," Phyllis agreed with a smile. "But I've given Justin some suggestions on how you might be able to make him feel less welcome. Perhaps those might work. If he gets the message that he is no longer welcome there or if he realizes you really aren't Asa, he may move on."

"Move on to where?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Maybe back to New Bedford. He was born there and lived most of his life there, after all. Or his spirit could be released to be reunited with his lover." She sighed. "I'm no expert when it comes to getting rid of ghostly spirits. If that doesn't work, you'll probably need to enlist the help of a Spiritual Detox Agent."

"A what?"

"A spiritual detox agent," Phyllis repeated to me.

"Ghostbuster," Justin explained simply as she nodded.

"I don't believe this," I muttered as I rubbed my hand over my face. I shook my head as I stood up. I didn't want to waste one more moment getting rid of whatever the fuck it was. He was NOT getting my house - _our_ house. "Okay; so tell me what we need to arm ourselves with," I asked my partner.

Justin rose to stand next to me. "We start by going to the Piggly Wiggly."

"Fuck."


	5. How Boo You Do?

_Despite their precautions, Brian has a close encounter of the not-so-welcome kind with his amorous suitor._

* * *

_Forty-Five Minutes Later..._

"Well, that should be the last of it," Justin informed me as I nailed the slightly rusty horseshoe I had found out in the stables upside down over the front door. Climbing down from the step stool we kept in the kitchen, I folded it back up to carry it inside, my head barely missing the wind chime that Justin had hung over the doorway. Another one had been placed leading in from the garage, and the smell of freshly hung bags of garlic at the back door assailed my sense of smell as I scrunched up my nose in distaste. As we walked down the hallway back toward the kitchen, the light reflected off the six mirrors we had hung on either side in various shapes and sizes.

"Did you unlock all the windows and the doors?" he asked me as I sighed.

"Yes," I verified. "I'm not too crazy about that suggestion, though," I admitted. The old lady had advised Justin to make sure all the doors and windows were unlocked tonight in case 'our spirit' wanted to leave. That didn't make sense at all to me, though; if the fucking ghost could walk through walls, why did he need to have all the windows and doors left unlocked for him? At least we had a security system, though, so hopefully when the spook left, a more physical intruder wouldn't arrive to rob us blind while we slept upstairs.

As I placed the step stool back inside the pantry and closed the door, I peered over at my partner as he walked up to me, sensing his uneasiness. Almost of one accord, we slid our arms around each other and just held onto each other tightly, Justin's head cradled underneath my chin as I closed my eyes and just savored the peacefulness and silence that pervaded our immediate surroundings. At least everything seemed back to normal - for now. I felt both mentally and physically exhausted, though, and quite on edge. "Ready to go to bed?" I asked him softly as we pulled back to stare into each other's eyes.

"I'm not sure," he admitted softly. "Even if we go to bed, I'm not sure I'll be able to get any sleep. I'll keep thinking a pair of empty eye sockets are staring at me."

I quirked an eyebrow at him as I reached over to grab one of the condom boxes and the large-sized tube of lubricant. "Who said anything about going to sleep?" I asked with a smirk. "I have some nervous energy I need to work off." I tore open the condom box to retrieve one of the thin, flat packages inside.

"Brian, stop that!" Justin reprimanded me as he none-too-gently snatched the package I was gripping between my teeth away from me. "Are you trying to make him mad?"

I rolled my eyes as I grabbed his hand. "No, I'm trying to get our lives back to normal. I wonder if ghosts are hearing impaired when they're dead." Leaning over to my partner, I whispered hotly in his ear, "Let's go fuck, Sunshine."

Justin blushed despite our predicament as he finally nodded, wanting to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him.

* * *

Both of our pairs of shoes lined up beside the bed a few minutes later - one shoe each facing a different direction per Phyllis' instructions - I slowly peeled my partner's clothes off as we stood facing each other. I started by pulling the shirt over his head and running my palms down the smooth, glowing skin to linger at Justin's dusky-colored nipples, evoking a whimper from my lover as I drew lazy circles over each nub with my thumbs. Then I leaned down to kiss him briefly before working the fly of his jeans and unzipping them, pulling them down his slim legs along with his briefs as he stepped out of them.

My eyes swept appreciatively over his lithe form as he returned the favor, unbuttoning my dress shirt to slip it off my shoulders before unbuttoning the lone button of my pants. I moaned softly as Justin slid his left hand inside the expensive linen to squeeze my now rock-hard cock before he pulled the material down my legs and helped me to step out of the rest of my clothes.

Both of us now completely nude, I led him over a few steps to our king-sized bed, now surrounded by dozens of candles flickering around the room. It was insanely romantic, but also another suggestion from the curator in an attempt to discourage my arduous, lover wannabe. At the moment, as I watched the flames dance enticingly across Justin's smooth, unblemished skin as he lay down on top of the bed, I decided at least for tonight that I really didn't mind them.

Justin held his arms out to me in invitation and opened his legs wider so I could lie between them. Crawling onto the bed, our bodies clung together, warm and so familiar, as I supported myself on my knees and elbows and peered down into his beautiful, flushed face. Leaning in to steal a lengthy kiss from my partner's full, plump lips, I took a while to thoroughly reacquaint myself with his feel, his smell, his taste. I heard Justin sigh in appreciation as we broke apart and I began to rain light kisses along his jawline, traveling a wet path down to the corded muscle of his collarbone as he turned his head to allow me better access.

His hands crept up my biceps to grip them as he whispered my name softly. "Brian, make love to me," he pleaded as I raised myself up to stare into his eyes and nod. At that moment, no one and nothing else mattered but the two of us. _Take that, Captain Spook,_ I couldn't help thinking smugly.

We turned onto our sides to face each other as our hands roamed everywhere now, the candles creating a mesmerizing pattern on the ceiling as we kissed, licked, caressed, stroked and groped, the heat of our passion quickly escalating. My right hand slid around to the crease in Justin's back, my fingers skimming down until they reached the soft mounds of flesh that I loved and knew so well. I heard Justin suck in a breath as my index finger slid between his cheeks on the way toward its desired target.

Justin reached over to grab the lubricant from the side of the bed, handing it to me as our eyes locked on each other. I took the object from him and was just about to flip the top open when I felt a cool rush of air blowing on my naked backside and then what felt distinctly like the tip of a tongue just above my ass.

Justin's eyes flew open as I jumped in his embrace in reaction. "What is it?" he asked.

I hurriedly flipped onto my back as I twisted my head around to stare at the other side of the bed, half-excepting to see my stalker peering down at me with those glowing eyes from before, but I saw nothing. "I'm...I'm not sure," I told my partner hesitantly, just before I clearly heard a loud, booming, stern "nooooooo!" erupt in the room.

"Shit!" I cried out as I sat up in the bed and looked around, goose pimples breaking out on my skin.

"What?" Justin exclaimed as he, too, raised himself up in the bed and looked around. "What is it?"

"Didn't you hear that?" I asked him as Justin shook his head, his eyes wide with anxiety.

"What? What did you hear?"

"I heard someone saying no just then; only it came out as more like a creepy sort of howling noise."

"A...A howling noise?"

I nodded my head as I reached to pull the lightweight duvet over our bodies, at once feeling both foolish as well as resentful that we had to cover up in our own bedroom. I shivered, feeling a distinctive chill in the room despite the temperature being quite comfortable before.

"Justin," I told my partner quietly. "As much as I can't believe I'm saying this, I don't think we're alone in Kansas...uh, West Virginia anymore."

I saw my partner swallow hard before he replied, "You mean...?"

I nodded my head as I reached for his hand, feeling him gripping it back tightly, almost to the point of cutting off my circulation. "You really didn't hear that?" I asked as he shook his head. I frowned. Not that I was an expert when it came to ghosts, but that seemed rather odd. Maybe I was just going crazy, but that wouldn't explain the rush of air I felt on my ass a few minutes ago - or that other feeling. "If I didn't know better..."

"What?" Justin pressed a little nervously next to me, continuing to look around the room for anything that appeared out of the ordinary.

"If I didn't know better...I would say someone was trying to give me a rim job just now."

Justin snorted, bestowing a skeptical look on me as he replied, "A rim job? What the fuck are you talking about?"

I sighed. "You know - someone trying to eat my ass? You've had that honor enough times to know what it is!" Truthfully, so had I; only it hadn't felt like such a 'ghoulish' experience before when Justin had done it.

"I know what it is, Brian," he growled with a scowl as we continued to look around the room, almost expecting any second to hear - or see - something else in the out-of-body category. "You're telling me this Drake guy was trying to...to give you a rim job? You want to explain how that's physically possible?"

I rubbed my head with my hand in agitation. "I don't know!" I told him helplessly. "All I know is when we were about ready to fuck just now, I felt something blowing on my ass and...And then what felt like a tongue licking me." I smirked. "If I wasn't scared half out of my mind right now, it might even be kind of kinky when you think about it."

"Don't even go there, Brian," Justin admonished me as he slid out of bed and began to pull his jeans on. "Get up!"

"I was trying to," I reminded him, "before our ghost tried to make it into a threesome."

"Brian, get out of bed! I am NOT spending the night here tonight!"

"Justin...You're being ridiculous...This is our home..."

I watched as my partner tugged his shirt back on. "Tell your trick that!"

"He is NOT my trick! And I'd watch what I call him; I'm not sure he would take too kindly to being treated so disrespectfully."

Justin shook his head in irritation as he pulled the sheet away from my body. "I'm going to the loft. Are you coming with me or not?"

"What if he decides to come with us?" I pointed out cheekily.

He glared at me. "There is no way he's 'coming' at all!" He seemed to hesitate for a moment longer before he slid his feet into his sneakers. "Get up, Brian!"

"I WAS up!" I reminded him. "I'm STILL up," I added, my cock still painfully hard and neglected.

Justin huffed. "Well, maybe _you_ could stay here, on second thought, as a distraction." He stuck his lower lip out. "After all, he's not interested in ME."

I laughed. "Why, Sunshine! If I didn't know better, I'd say that you're jealous of Nathaniel."

He snorted at me. "Nathaniel? So the two of you are on a first-name basis now?"

"Well, he HAS seen me naked and we were almost fuck buddies just now," I pointed out. "It seems only right."

"Brian, will you please be serious?"

"Justin, it's a little hard to be serious when I've just been licked by a ghost, you know?" I sighed. "Surely you're not going to let this guy win. This is OUR house now; not his." I shook my head. "I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

"I'm not _letting him win_," Justin growled as he handed me my pants and I began to slide them on. "We just need to come up with a different game plan, that's all. Preferably out of earshot from _him._ He may have won the battle tonight, but he is NOT going to win the war. Pack a bag; we're going into town for the night."

Thinking that perhaps we might at least get some sleep before the night was over, I finally agreed as I plucked my shirt up off the floor and slipped it on, expecting any moment that my amorous admirer would intercept us again. For whatever reason, though, he remained eerily silent. I did make sure, however, not to press my luck and come into contact with my partner for the time being, thinking that he seemed to be the most agitated when I was either kissing or touching Justin. I also pondered the wisdom of keeping the antique chain mail and suits of armor still standing as a decoration down the hall that we had inherited from the previous owner of the house. I wasn't sure how good the captain's aim was when it came to medieval armament, but I figured now was probably not a good time to find out how deft he was with a sword.

* * *

Ten minutes later, we were heading back to the Pitts, our alarm set and the windows and doors still unlocked in case the good captain might decide he was bored and miraculously depart while we were gone. I figured it was probably not too likely, though.

I was thankful now that we had chosen to keep the loft and not sell it, since we could use that for the night. I took a deep breath as I glanced over at Justin, immediately recognizing the tenseness in his posture in the dimly lit interior. "Well, look at it this way," I told him, trying to cheer him up. "He seems to want to stay at Britin; I don't hear anything or feel anything."

Justin nodded glumly. "Brian, I really love our house. I am NOT letting him take it away from us. I don't care HOW love struck he is on you."

"Not on me," I reminded him. "Asa."

"Okay, Asa," he agreed. "But to him, you and his lover are apparently one and the same. I'm going to find a way to 'educate' him, though," Justin vowed as I raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"How?"

"I don't know yet," Justin admitted, his lips set in a determined line. "But I'm going to find a way."

I reached over and squeezed his hand with a reassuring smile. "Well, if anyone can, I know you can," I told him as Justin smiled back at me before turning his head to peer out the side window, deep in thought.

* * *

_The Next Morning..._

Half asleep, I flopped over onto my side and flung my arm around Justin's waist, hearing a soft sigh in response as I smiled at the mop of blond hair covering my partner's face on the pillow. At least we had managed to get in some fucking as well as some much-needed rest last night. In the sunlight splashing through the louvered shades of the bedroom, things didn't seem as dire as they had last night. I could almost believe that I had imagined the events that had occurred since we had returned, but as I spied my small overnight bag lying on the chair nearby, I knew it had been all too real - at least as real as being stalked by an amorous ghost could be.

Noticing it was getting late, I leaned down to kiss Justin's shoulder as I whispered, "Justin? If you want the car today, we need to get up, Sunshine." I chuckled as I received a grunt in reaction and what I thought was a simple objection: "Uh-uh." Smirking, I decided more drastic action was required. I reached out to slowly skim my fingers over his shoulder, admiring the softness of his unblemished skin as he shivered beneath me. Smiling, my hand then traveled down his sternum with the lightest of touches, fingertips teasing and tickling as I reached his left nipple and flicked it with my thumb for good measure before proceeding further southward.

Peeling back the sheet covering his tented erection, I caressed his belly before stroking his thigh with my left hand and reaching out with my right to cup his heavy balls. I watched as my lover's eyelids fluttered with the first signs of awakening, my pulse quickening as they opened to display bright, blue eyes staring back at me.

Justin smiled lazily back at me as I murmured, "I see you're finally up. Guess it just took the right incentive to rouse you."

He grinned sleepily as his eyes traveled down to my own boner. "Yeah, looks like I'm not the only one who's up."

I smiled at him as I leaned in to steal a kiss from his warm lips before pulling back to inform him, "I have a meeting at Kinnetik in a hour. Want to help me get dressed?"

"No," was the surprising reply as my smile faded a bit in disappointment; but then he smirked at me. "But I'll help you shower."


	6. Is There an Astrologist in the House?

"So, what's the plan today, Sunshine?" I asked as Justin helped straighten up my tie while I stood near the wardrobe mirror, smoothing out my sleeve. Thank goodness I kept a supply of clothing on hand at the loft for occasions such as this - well, at least occasions where I needed a change of clothes on short notice and couldn't commute from home. This was the first time I had needed to stay in town because a horny ghost had the hots for me, though.

Satisfied I looked immaculate, Justin leaned up on his tiptoes to give me a brief kiss as he replied, "The plan is to find a ghost exterminator...or at least some way to roll up the welcome mat when it comes to the good Captain."

I nodded. "And where does one find a 'ghost exterminator,' I wonder?"

Justin eyed me ruefully. "Good question. I have a feeling it won't do much good to Google "Ghostbusters" online."

"You might be surprised," I told him as I kissed him on the nose playfully. "You know we don't have to hurry back to Britin. We have everything we need here at the loft."

Justin shook his head as his hands traveled up my suited chest. "Not everything," he told me softly.

"You mean your studio supplies? You can always buy..." He stopped me by placing his fingers over my lips as he shook his head.

"No, that's not what I meant," he told me. "I mean the memories. Don't get me wrong; we've had some wonderful memories right here, too," he clarified. "Last night was a nice addition to that," he added with an almost shy smile. "But Britin...Britin is our first home together, Brian. It's where you proposed to me. I want to live there with you for a long time; not let some goon run us off."

"You mean for an eternity?" I asked, tongue-in-cheek as Justin winced.

"Well, that depends upon whether or not we'll be sharing it with some not-so-welcome company. I guess you _could_ wind up taking your eternal rest in the middle plot, though, so we could share you."

"Kinky," I wisecracked as I turned to grab my car keys. "I prefer to reunite the good Captain with his own drama queen instead; you're more than enough for me, Sunshine. Ready to go?" I asked.

Justin nodded as we headed out - me to go take care of some business at Kinnetik, and Justin to go in search of some ghost D-Con.

* * *

_Lunchtime...Liberty Diner_

Over here, Sweetie!" Emmett waved enthusiastically at Justin with a smile, standing up to give his friend a quick peck on the cheek. "Have a seat!"

"Hi, Em," Justin greeted the taller man as he scooted into the booth seat opposite him. He smiled at him. "It's good to see you; it's been way too long."

Emmett crooked an eyebrow. "And whose fault is that?" he pointed out. "I still live at the same dive, Mr. Big Shot Artist." He gave Justin an indignant but playful look as Justin grinned at him.

"I know, I'm sorry," he told him contritely. "You know how I am when I get wrapped up with a new painting. And Brian and I just got back from a whitewater rafting trip."

Emmett's eyes widened. "Sounds dangerous. How was it?"

Justin smiled as he recalled their recent adventure together. If only all days could be that carefree and, yes, even romantic. "It was great," he told him. "We had a wonderful time." His smile faltered slightly then as he came crashing back to reality; a gesture that wasn't lost on his friend.

"Well, something's not quite right," Em insisted. "Why don't you _look_ like you had a wonderful time? You look kind of tired to me for someone who just got back from vacation - although, with you two you probably wore each other out," he added with a smirk.

Justin sighed, having spent all morning trying unsuccessfully to find a remedy to his and Brian's problem. "I did," he assured him. "We had the most wonderful cabin with a Jacuzzi and a fireplace - and the white water rafting was incredible. It's what happened _after_ we got home that's the problem."

Emmett leaned over the booth in fascination, sensing a juicy gossip session heading his way. "Ooh...Dish! Did you and the big, bad wolf get into a major knockdown, drag out?"

"Em! Of course not!" Justin retorted indignantly. "Well...not this time, anyway," he replied sheepishly. He and Brian did occasionally have some pretty wild arguments at times - nothing unusual when two passionate men were involved - but the makeup sex that resulted was always well worth it afterward. "No, nothing like that," he assured him. "I know someone that I'd like to knock down and drag out, though," he muttered. Not that he didn't feel sorry for the guy in a way, but he could only take so much, even if he was a romantic at heart.

Emmett's eyes grew wide. "You and Michael? Has he done something? "

"Emmett! Give it a rest! No, it has nothing to _do_ with Michael! That was a long time ago." He sighed as he brushed a hand through his hair, wondering how exactly to describe what was going on at Britin - and not make it sound like either some science fiction plot or that he was losing his mind. "Actually, it has to do with Britin...and our horny ghost who has decided to take up residence there and won't leave."

Emmett laughed as he almost spit out his coffee he had been drinking. "Oh, that's a good one, Baby! Wait, don't tell me! He took one look at the stud of the house, and now he doesn't want to leave."

"Well..." Justin hesitated before shrugging. "Yeah, actually, that's about right," he decided. "Except he doesn't think it's Brian; he thinks it's his long-lost love, Asa."

Emmett's mouth gaped open, his coffee mug perched in mid-air. "Why does it look like you're not kidding me?"

"Because I'm not." He sighed again. "It's a long story. Let me start at the beginning." He nodded his thanks as the waitress came over with a refill of their coffee and to take their orders. He took a deep breath and a sip of his coffee before he began, "Before we left on our trip, I started hearing these noises upstairs, and..."

* * *

_Fifteen Minutes Later..._

Em stared, astonished, at his friend. "So you've never seen this guy at the house, or heard him, either? Just the raccoons."

Justin shook his head. "No, but Brian has. And I saw a photo of him at the Historical Society."

"Is he hot?" Emmett asked curiously, unable to keep from asking.

"Em! I don't know! I mean, it was kind of a poor photo. I guess," he admitted. "In a sort of Gorton Fisherman way. Brian insists he looks like Errol Flynn."

Emmett's eyes lit up. "Ooh, I _love_ him! Have you ever seen him in those tight little breeches on board one of those sailing ships in his movies? Or as Robin Hood? So he IS hot! No wonder you're jealous."

"I am NOT jealous!" Justin almost shouted, causing the other patrons to turn around and stare at them. He could have sworn a few of them actually smirked, while a few seemed to eye him sympathetically. By now, everyone knew who his partner was, and they appeared to think that Brian was the same old Brian. Of course, he knew better, but it still rankled him. He lowered his voice as he added, "How can I be jealous of someone who I can't even see? And besides, in case you've forgotten, he's dead."

"Tell HIM that."

Justin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Emmett huffed. "Don't you know anything about dead people?"

Justin rolled his eyes as the waitress came back with their lunch plates - two, identical pink plate specials of a BLT and onion rings - and placed them down in front of them. He waited until she had left before he replied, "No, I can't say that I've made the acquaintance of too many dead people - unless you count some of the snobby art patrons I encounter from time to time."

Em smiled. "Those don't count. What I mean is, I've read about these kinds of ghosts, Baby. Most of the time they don't realize they're dead. Supposedly one of the ways to convince them to leave is to point that out to them and then tell them to get the hell out."

"That's it? I just stand in the middle of the house and shout, "Hey, Captain? Do you know you're dead? Get the fuck out of my house!"

Emmett shrugged as he held the sandwich up to his mouth in mid-air. "Well...it's probably not as easy as all that. Sounds like the dear captain is smitten with your misses."

Justin harrumphed. "Better not let Brian hear you call him that." He sighed. "What am I going to do? I've been everywhere this morning, and no luck. There has to be someone who can help us get rid of him."

Em's face broke out into a broad smile. "Of course! I have just the person! After all, if it hadn't been for her, we never would have found YOU."

Justin frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

Em grinned. "Just hurry up and eat, and I'll show you."

* * *

_Thirty Minutes Later..._

Justin slid out of the passenger seat of Emmett's car as he squinted his eyes at the storefront a few feet away; he had left Brian's car at the diner for the time being. "What is this place?" he asked. "I've never been in this part of town before." He glanced upward at a sign above the door showing an eye that appeared to be encased in the middle of a carnival-type, neon sign that read "Psychic Reading - Mystical Astrologist."

"This," Emmett announced as he walked around to join his friend, "is the solution to your ghostly problem."

Justin scrunched up his face - it appeared to belong to some has-been from Las Vegas. "I don't know..."

"Look at that." Em pointed over to another sign hanging to the right of the door. "If that doesn't tell you we're on the right track, nothing does."

Justin glanced over at a smaller sign that read _Spiritual Problems_. "I'm not sure that's the type of 'spiritual problem' they're referring to," he replied doubtfully.

He grabbed Justin's sleeve. "Come on - let's go see if the lady of the house is in."

"Em..." Justin weakly protested. But he allowed Emmett to pull him toward the entrance. It was a typical storefront with a green awning over the sidewalk and large, plate-glass windows in the front. That was where it ended, however; in the showcases, he could see what could only be described as occult-like items draped in a deep, red fabric background: tarot cards, crystal balls, wands, wooden boxes holding who-knew-what, candles with demon and goblin designs, beads, and bottles of indecipherable lotions. He rolled his eyes. "Em, I don't think..." he began skeptically as his friend ignored him and resolutely pushed the door open to enter, still firmly clutching his sleeve.

"Trust me, Baby, this is going to work," he assured him. A sound akin to a deep gong pealed out as they entered, evidently signifying to the owner that he or she had a new patron entering the store.

For the second time in as many days, the strong, almost overbearing stench of incense burning assailed Justin as they walked inside; soft, new-age type music was playing from a hidden set of speakers somewhere, and the entire front room was dim and smoky. He shuddered, feeling a distinct sort of chill in the air. "It feels like a damn refrigerator in here," he groused to Emmett. "Or maybe a tomb."

"Oh, that's just for effect, Sweetie," a deep, gravelly voice replied from a few feet away, making Justin jump. He turned around to stare over at a tall, masculine-looking woman, her dark, wavy hair kept in place with a headscarf and wearing a long, flowing, dark-red and gray caftan like some gypsy. The only thing missing in Justin's opinion was a tambourine.

"I know you...don't I?" the woman asked Emmett, who smirked.

"Well, YOU'RE the psychic," was the somewhat cheeky reply. "You tell ME."

Justin stared at the woman as she came closer and stood nose-to-nose with Emmett. Emmett gazed back at her unflinchingly, almost as if he were challenging her to a duel, before she finally nodded. "Ah, yes - you were at Woody's that day, wearing that God-awful vest. I hope you gave it a proper burial or donated it to some homeless person."

"Hey!" Emmett replied indignantly. "That cost me a whole week's wages..."

"Em..." Justin interrupted. "Uh...maybe we'd better just go..."

The woman turned then to stare at him as if she were noticing him for the first time, moving in closer to get a better look. "And _you!_" she finally spoke as Justin pulled back slightly. "You would have made a lot of money in Chelsea if you had stayed there."

"Huh?"

She shook her head. "Never mind; don't worry, Honey - you'll be kicking ass in art soon."

Justin looked over at Em in astonishment as he smiled. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," he explained. "She knows her stuff. She's the one who helped us find you when you ran off to New York. You know, Brian's credit card, fancy schmancy hotel room in Chelsea? If it hadn't been for her, we never would have known where to find you. She's good," he finally stated as the woman smiled at him smugly.

"Yes, I am," the woman exclaimed. She bent her wrist and stuck out her hand toward Justin as if she wanted him to kiss his palm. "Mysterious Marilyn," she told him as Justin's manners kicked in and he briefly shook her hand. He couldn't help noticing how cold it was, almost like she was dead herself. "But you can just call me M and M. Not like the candy, though," she told him with a smirk. "I prefer to think that I'm channeling Marilyn Monroe."

She brought two of her long-fingered nails up to either side of her nose then as she closed her eyes, seemingly lost in concentration. "There's no time to waste," she suddenly spoke up urgently as her eyes flew back open and she stared over at her guests. "I'll need some supplies." She quickly whirled around and disappeared back into the rear of the store. A few minutes later, Justin could hear clanging and scuffling noises as he turned to his friend.

"Em, I don't know about this...she seems like some deluded quack to me. And I'm not sure how Brian's going to react to her."

Emmett snorted. "They've already met. She tried to tell him he needed air in his tires before he went to New York, but you know him - he wouldn't listen."

Justin shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

Emmett promptly shushed him. "No time," he told him as Marilyn came rushing back in with a large, worn, dark red, velvet satchel clutched in her hands. "Later," he stage whispered as their host turned around to eye them.

"So where is he?" she asked Justin.

"Who?"

Marilyn rolled her eyes. "That smug asshole that's living with you."

"Well, he is kind of scary, but he won't even talk to me..."

"Not THAT one!" Marilyn retorted as Emmett snickered. "Kinney! Bring him here; we're running out of time!"

"I don't think he's going to like this," Justin muttered, wondering if he had lost his mind. This woman was odd to say the least, in more ways than one. Grudgingly, however, against his better judgment, he flipped open his phone and began to dial Brian's cell number, wondering how he was going to approach his partner with his request.

* * *

_Brian's POV_

Fifteen minutes later, I came to a halt in front of some storefront after taking a cab to the diner to pick up my car, doing a double take in reaction to the sign perched above the entrance. Disembarking and walking hesitantly over to the door, I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath before swinging the door open. I heard a deep sort of gong that startled me as I blinked my eyes to try and adjust to the dimness and the smoky interior; I wrinkled my nose at the overpowering smell of something musky and sweet that practically blew me backward. "Justin?" I called out hesitantly. _Please let him not be here, _I couldn't help thinking. Unfortunately, I soon found out I was not going to get my wish.

A few seconds later, my partner came walking out from the back room with Emmett and an eccentric-looking woman who looked inexplicably familiar. I peered in trepidation at the odd-looking stranger as my brow furrowed in concentration. "I know you..." I began tentatively as I wracked my brain to try to remember from where.

The woman made a weird sort of motion with her hands and huffed in indignation. "Chelsea? Go-Go boy? Ring a bell?"

Justin blushed then, and it all fell into place.

"Shit, you're the one from Woody's...that tea reader."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "I AM memorable," she agreed stiffly. "But I am NO 'tea reader,'" she told me, apparently offended. "I am much more educated than that."

I looked over at my partner and Emmett, a deadly combination. I should have known that Emmett would have something to do with this. I sighed heavily before asking, "Justin, what am I doing here?"

I thought Justin appeared distinctly uncomfortable as he began to explain, "Well, I was having lunch with Em, and I had looked everywhere, Brian! I was getting desperate. And, and..."

"...And you had to tell him what was going on, didn't you?"

Justin nodded. "He suggested her," he told me simply as I opened my mouth to protest.

Justin, there is no way I'm letting that, that..."

"Watch it, sweetie," Mysterious Marilyn warned me. "Or I'll put a curse on you. A curse to make you old and gray."

I huffed. "Not too damn likely," I growled. _At least not for the next thirty years or so... _"Justin, this isn't necessary..." I began in an attempt to try and reason with him.

"Oh, yeah?" he challenged me, his blue eyes flashing. "And just what would you suggest, Brian? I am NOT going to live the rest of my life with your ghost groupie sharing our bed! You have someone better in mind?"

"Not THIS Marilyn!" I protested. "What about Marilyn Manson? After all, he's pretty scary looking." I smirked, but I didn't receive the desired effect. Three sets of indignant eyes bored back at me as I threw up my hands. "Why not?" I finally acquiesced, unable to come up with a better solution. "Let's go exorcise some lily white ghost butt."


	7. Conclusion: Soulmates

_The boys recruit Mysterious Marilyn to try and knock some sense into our infatuated, misguided spook? Will it be successful, though? Or will they be forever destined to a threesome? (snicker)._

* * *

_Early Evening...Britin_

Holding a glass of Beam in my hand and sitting crossways in one of our leather recliners in the study an hour later, I gulped back a large swig of it as I tried to stay out of the way, deciding to leave the ghost busting up to my partner and his cohort in crime, the inimitable Emmy Lou.

I watched as they came walking in with Mysterious Marilyn right behind them, carrying the large satchel in her hands. She set the cumbersome bag down onto the coffee table with a distinct thudding sound before moving her bony hands to her neck to undo the flowing robe she was wearing, revealing a sparkly, red, sequined evening gown underneath.

Emmett's mouth dropped open in shock as I snorted. "Oh, my God! Darren has a gown just like that back home!" he marveled in astonished delight; Justin merely gaped at her in surprise.

"I know!" I volunteered with a smirk. "You're planning on blinding him to death."

She huffed at me, unaffected, as she smoothed the fabric over her tall, lanky body. "You have to show them who's boss. The more confident you appear, the more they'll be apt to leave when you tell them to." She brushed some of her long, flowing hair back from her face, her head now free of the scarf she had worn previously.

"Now why didn't _I _think of that? Let me go slip into some Prada and he'll be out of here in no time."

"Make fun if you want," she told me defensively. "But you won't be laughing when he decides to stay. Spirits don't know that they're dead," she informed me as Justin glanced over at me with an _'I told you so' _sort of look. "You mustn't show any fear around them," she warned me. "Or they won't obey you when you tell them to go toward the light."

"Oh, I'm quaking in my boots right now," I deadpanned as I looked over at Justin. "Tell him and _Emmy Lou_ that." Justin huffed in indignation as I watched our 'guest' take out a stack of small, ceramic bowls and a couple packages of incense. "Uh, uh," I told her with a shake of my head. "I don't want that shit stinking up my house. Garlic is bad enough."

"This shit, as you call it, is sage and cedar," she told me haughtily. "Sage opens up the bridge to the spirit world and helps them to enter." She smirked. "And if _that_ doesn't work, the cedar's a way to yank the welcome mat out from under them and give them a good boot in the ass if they put up a fuss."

She removed a corded necklace with a crystal from around her neck and handed it to Justin. "Here, Sweetie; take this and hang it up over there by the window where the sun will reflect off it; it will only allow positive energy to enter the house from now on." Justin nodded solemnly at her as he walked over and, standing up on the window seat cushion, he looped the corded chain around the old-fashioned lock of the window, the crystal softly bouncing off the glass for several seconds before it came to a stop.

"Now," she said as she turned around and sat down on the couch opposite me. "Your partner tells me you're the only one that can hear and see this ghost."

I stared pointedly over at Justin, who shrugged as he explained, "I had to give her the background information about Nathaniel and Asa."

I sighed in resignation. I had to admit I couldn't explain away everything that had happened even if I wanted to. "Yeah, apparently that's right," I told her finally as she nodded. "He does seem fixated on me. I guess being hot really IS timeless."

My head turned around to glare at Emmett as I heard a soft guffaw escape his lips; he quickly coughed to cover it up as Marilyn continued, "And you've either seen or felt his presence twice now in your bedroom?"

I smirked. "Felt is the right word. Yeah," I confirmed. "About a week apart."

"Any particular pattern you observed?"

I bristled. "Are you trying to impersonate a police detective in drag now?"

"Brian..." Justin warned me with that look of his. "She's just trying to get some background information."

I brushed my right hand through my hair as I told her, "Well...he seems to have an issue with me...fucking Sunshine here." I noticed Justin turning a little red as I reminded him, "You _told_ me to cooperate." I turned back to Marilyn as I informed her, "Both times he's shown up has been when we were fucking or at least in bed together. And we think he's the one who stole our box of condoms out of the drawer."

She nodded as she leaned over to take something else out of her satchel. I watched as she reached in to grab a deck of cards, laying them face down on the glass coffee table. Instead of recognizing renderings of gargoyles or celestial beings, however, I noticed aces, kings, and queens, among others. "What the fuck?" I muttered. I rolled my eyes while my partner and Emmy Lou seem absolutely fascinated by it all, remaining silent as she began to carefully flip certain cards over. An occasional hum or murmur would escape her lips in various tones of what sounded like either surprise or concern for several seconds before I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Will you cut the theatrics?" I groused. "Just get to the point. How do we get rid of this guy?"

"Oh, sorry," Marilyn replied absentmindedly. "I like to play a little Solitaire from time to time to break the tension." She placed a red jack of hearts on top of the queen before shrugging. "What do you _think_? We need to contact him and find out what he wants."

"No kidding! Of course," I told her sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that? I'm sure he'll listen to reason. And just how do you propose we do that?" I smirked. "Oh, I know! How about a hand of _Go Fish_? He ought to like that."

She smiled serenely at me. "That might be one way. But I think a séance would be more effective."

"Ooh!" Emmett immediately gushed over the idea as he clapped with glee. "I've always wanted to do that! Have you ever seen that episode of _ I Love Lucy_ where they were pretending to contact that man's wife, Tillie, only to find out that he was really talking about his...mffmppphhtt..."

I reached over and clamped my hand over Emmett's mouth until he thankfully stopped speaking. Or so I thought.

"Well!" he huffed at me like a puffer fish as I removed my hand. "I was just saying that it's a perfectly good way to..." One death-ray glare from me, however, and a pointing of my index finger in warning, and he promptly clammed up again as Justin scowled over at me.

"Brian, don't be so nasty to Emmett. I think a séance would be kind of cool."

I gave my partner a half-suffering look. "Kind of cool?"

I noticed Justin seemed to squirm a little as he admitted, "Well, yeah. How many times do you get a chance to talk to dead people?"

"I don't know," I told him. "How many times have you been to an event at the Gay and Lesbian Center?"

"Brian..."

"I thought this guy gave you the creeps?"

"Well, he does. But until we can communicate with him, we'll never be able to find out what he's thinking or how to get him out of our house."

I snorted. "I _know_ what he's thinking. He's thinking what every other fag always thinks when he sees me. I'm hot - even if he's cold." I shivered at the thought. I wasn't into necrophilia, and this seemed about as close to it as I wanted to get.

Justin rolled his eyes at me. "Gee, I'm so surprised by that statement. Well, don't worry; I don't think you'll have to even participate at all; just stay over there with your Beam and look studly, and he'll come running as soon as we call him."

I grinned. "You have a point. But that's okay; I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Marilyn looked over at me sternly. "Better wipe that grin off your face, Kinney; this will be no laughing matter if I'm able to channel him."

"Channel him? Which one? CNN or Fox? Oh, I know! Let's contact Robert Ghoulet! We could try Phil Spector, too..."

"He's not dead," Emmett pointed out. "He's in jail for making someone _else_ dead."

"Oh," I replied. "Well, he might as well be. He _looks_ like death warmed over..."

"Enough!" Marilyn barked out in a booming voice as she waved a bracelet-bedecked arm. "Everyone, clear your mind..."

"That should be easy for you, Honeycutt..."

"Brian, please...!"

I sighed at my partner as I slid out of my chair, placed my glass of Beam down, and walked over to the rest of the group. "Okay, what next? Should I go get some sheets to wear? Maybe he would be more comfortable with his own kind. I think we're out of frozen fish sticks, though."

"Come with me to the dining room!" Marilyn commanded as, with a melodramatic swish of her red gown, she turned and headed out of the room. In a voice reminiscent of Moses, she declared, "I will need some bread or soup."

_What the fuck_? "Isn't this a strange time to eat?" I had to ask as I exchanged a confused look with my partner.

Marilyn huffed as if she were addressing a recalcitrant child. "It is not for me. We must provide a sense of nourishment to our guest. It's time to rid ourselves of this apparition."

"Thank goodness," I muttered as the three of us followed her down the hallway. "I was afraid Emmett was going to cater something."

* * *

A few minutes later, we were all sitting at my and Justin's informal, oval dining room table, the only light coming from three, squat, white candles flickering in front of us that sat on a wooden base in the center, along with a loaf of homemade bread that Justin had 'donated' to the cause, a bowl of salt water, and one, lone, turkey feather. I watched skeptically as our hostess carefully placed a slightly scruffy crystal ball down onto a gold-colored, scroll-leaf pedestal; I saw her lightly rub her fingers over it like she was trying to adjust a TV antenna. I kept expecting _Calling Captain Drake, calling Captain Drake, come in, Captain Drake _to erupt any moment from her lips, but they remained tightly pressed together instead.

She peered around the table at the three of us regally as she droned, "Place your hands on the table and spread them apart. Your fingertips must touch the tips of the person beside you. There must be silence!" she admonished us. I almost guffawed at that, but as I looked at the solemn faces of my partner and Emmy Lou, I somehow managed to squelch the laugh that threatened to burst out of me as she glared over at me as if I were the naughty, little altar boy. "We must approach this with the right decorum. No matter what happens, you must not speak, and you must not move until the séance is over. Do you all understand?"

Justin and Emmett slowly nodded as she looked pointedly over at me. "Yeah, yeah, I understand," I grumbled as I spread my hands out, palm down, onto the white tablecloth and stretched out my pinkie finger so it was just barely touching Justin's, my other pinkie finger extended toward Mysterious Marilyn's.

I watched as she dipped her long index finger into the small bowl of salt water before she rose to her feet and began to stick it in the air as if she were testing wind speed; she seemed to almost float across the room as she drew an imaginary line in the air around the table and around us. I noticed Justin and Emmett watching her, entranced, as, apparently satisfied, she returned to her chair, sitting down smoothly before intoning in a deep, calm voice, "Now...take a deep breath. Take a deep breath and clear yourself of all thoughts and emotions. Feel the silence. Let yourself relax and open yourself up to new possibilities." She spread out her fingers so her pinkie was touching mine now and Emmett's on her other side as she added, "Now there must be no talking. Remember, you must treat our guest with respect. Calm...must be calm..."she droned on hypnotically as I tried not to think about how she sounded like a strange version of Yoda.

"Uh...can I ask just one, quick, little question?" Emmett asked her unexpectedly.

She sighed with barely-restrained impatience, blinking her eyes slowly. "If you must. What is it?"

"If he appears, can you ask him about Natalie Wood?" Justin stared over at him aghast as he shrugged. "Well, he knows all about the water," he hastened to explain. "I just thought he might have some idea how she..."

"Silence!" Marilyn hissed at him then, effectively shutting him up as he held up his hands and whispered "sorry" before making a proverbial 'zipping' motion across his lips. She glared over at Emmett for a few seconds longer, waggling a finger at him in warning before she made a move to calm herself.

The room was absolutely silent now except for our combined pants of expectant breath as she closed her eyes and began to intone, "Nathaniel Drake, we summon you to us. We seek your presence. We bring this bread to you as a gift of welcome. Please make yourself known to us." Despite my skepticism, I felt my pulse quickening in anticipation, not sure if I was wanting her to succeed with her request or not. I had moved beyond the point of not believing the fucker existed; it was hard not to be a convert when I had seen him in his ethereal state and he had spoken aloud, not to mention the tongue action he had bestowed on me earlier. But I wasn't quite sure if I wanted him to appear or not. I only knew I - and most certainly my partner - wanted him out of our house.

For once, however, there was no obvious sign of him. I thought about leaning over and giving Justin's ear a nip just to lure him to us, but I thought better of it. He didn't appear to be exactly malevolent or malicious in nature - just a lovesick, misguided spook - but I didn't want to take any chances, either.

"Hear me, Nathaniel Drake. Come to us, oh spirit. Appear before us. We mean you no harm," Marilyn reassured him in a monotone sort of voice.

I tried not to scoff at the cheesy speech, although it was extremely hard as I concentrated instead on my partner's soft breathing beside me and the light brush of his finger touching mine. Somehow it grounded me as we waited curiously for any sign that we were not alone.

I focused on the flickering of the trio of candles in front of us as Mysterious Marilyn's voice began to almost hypnotize me as she began to repeat her refrain, "We are calling out to you, Nathaniel Drake. Appear before us, and tell us what you want. Give us a sign you are with us."

_Oh, brother_, I couldn't help thinking, hoping our visitor couldn't hear the doubt creeping into my mind. Could this woman be any hammier? If I were running the show, I would just tell the damn ghost to get his bony ass in here and be done with it. I'd straighten out this fucker in no time. I bit back my frustration as I glanced over at my partner, whose mouth was hanging slightly open as he stared into the flames in front of him. Justin's face was intriguing as the patterns of light played across his skin and reflected in his eyes. I couldn't help admiring my partner's beauty, my lover oblivious to my thoughts that were dangerously close to being lesbionic as I wondered how long this was going to take - whatever 'this' was.

Suddenly I felt a distinctive chill in the room, and one of the candlewicks blew violently. My breathing quickened slightly as I heard a rush of air in the room, even though the door was closed and there were no windows open to let in a draft.

My eyes opened wider then as I observed the same type of glowing vision I had seen in my and Justin's bedroom before - there he was by the door, except Drake was wearing a different sort of outfit this time. It consisted of a pair of linen-type pants and a round-necked, cable sweater with a billed cap of some type and leather boots. The man's dark hair actually appeared to gleam in the reflection of the candlelight as he floated effortlessly a couple of feet off the ground, silent and foreboding. Apparently the man had access to wardrobe changes.

"Is that him?" Marilyn asked me under her breath as I nodded. "Don't speak," She then hissed under her breath as I stared over at our not-so-welcome visitor. "I'm the expert; let me handle it."

I rolled my eyes, but did as I was told, assuming that she, at least, could see him as well as I could. By the way that Justin and Emmett were whipping their heads back and forth and looking all over the room, however, something told me that they could not.

"Nathaniel Drake," Marilyn droned. "Come closer. Come closer and tell us what is in your heart. Why are you here?"

I watched as he slowly raised his arm and pointed a finger - right at me. "Himmmmmmm," he bayed out mournfully. "Himmmmmmm. Asa..."

I shivered; I could tell that Justin was dying to ask me what was going on, but to his credit he didn't say anything. He reached over to grasp my hand tightly in his as I stared over at our company.

"You seek Asa," Marilyn intoned. "You seek your love."

"Yesssssss..."

I could hear the man, ghost - whatever the fuck he should be called - speaking, but his lips weren't really moving. "Tell him it's not me," I finally said, wondering how we were going to convince this spook otherwise.

Marilyn glared over at me for having the gall to say something aloud, but nevertheless she calmly turned her head to address him again. "This man is not who you seek," she told him in a surprisingly authoritarian, Obi-wan type of voice. I had to give her credit for that, because I suspected my own voice would be breaking slightly at the moment if _I_ were speaking. "He is not your Asa."

"Nooooo..." I heard him moan in protest as he continued to float above the floor. "Soulmate...eternity..."

As I sat there feeling the comforting warmth of Justin's hand in mind, I considered what it would be like to be apart from my _own_ soulmate. I actually began to feel a little sorry for the guy then. Not that I was too sure yet about all this 'eternity' crap, but if there WAS such a thing, I couldn't imagine not spending it with Justin - in some form - by my side.

Marilyn glanced over at me, and I thought I saw a glimmer of epiphany dance across her face as she turned to look over at our guest again. It almost seemed like she WAS psychic as she told him, "Look at him, Nathaniel..._really_ look at him. He is with his own soulmate. This is not your love. Asa is waiting for you over on the other side. Go to him. Go to the light."

"Noooooo," he continued to stubbornly insist. "Here. Want to stay...with Asa..."

I huffed over this spook's obstinacy, not too much different than my partner's in a way. Sorry or not, I wasn't about to let him come between Justin and me, and I had no intention of sharing our home with this character. I paused for just a moment to think about the absurdity of that statement. I could just hear me saying to Mikey at the diner afterward in response to why Justin and I inexplicably broke up: "Well, you see...he was jealous of this ghost who just showed up all of a sudden and wanted me to fuck him. Justin said I broke the 'no more tricks' rule we had, and he couldn't handle it anymore, so he left." _Yeah...Right._

I took a deep breath before plunging in. "Look, Nate, old boy. I know I'm hot, and I'm flattered and all, but..."

"What's he saying?" Justin whispered at last, too curious to keep quiet any longer. Marilyn flashed him a warning look, but he ignored her, also.

"...he's not listening to her," I explained. "So it's MY turn now..."

"Do not toy with him," Marilyn warned me by my side. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I know exactly what I'm dealing with," I assured her firmly as I glanced down at my partner's hand clasped in mine - yes, damn it, my soulmate's hand. I glanced up to see Nathaniel hovering near the door, slowly flowing back and forth as if in indecision.

I took another deep breath, this time striving to be more serious. I cleared my throat. "She's right," I told him as I spoke up, noticing Nathaniel seem to visibly bristle at the statement. I forged on before I lost my nerve. "I'm not Asa. I look like him, but I'm not. Take a good look at me, damn it! My name is Brian, and..." I looked over at Justin and stared into his face, his blue eyes reflecting off the candlelight nearby. I turned to peer back at Nathaniel as I explained before I lost my nerve, "...this is Justin, MY soul mate. Yours is waiting for you, too...but you have to take that first step." I didn't have to turn to look at Justin to know that the smile no doubt lighting up his face in reaction to that outrageously romantic drivel I had just said was probably rivaling the luminosity from the three candles in the middle of the table.

Mysterious Marilyn nodded her grudging approval. "Go," she told him firmly like she was talking to a disobedient child who didn't want to go to bed, but knew it was for the best. "Go toward the light, lost spirit. Reach for his hand on the other side and be reunited with him forever."

"How...? How do I know...?" the apparition lamented, seemingly lost in thought and tormented over what to do.

"You will know. Listen to his heartprint. Feel his presence here; it is strong, I can sense it. Listen with your heart and then you will know."

Suddenly the room was filled with a brilliant, white light. Nathaniel's body began to glow with a dazzling hue, so bright that it almost blinded me. "Asa!" he called out with an emotion-filled voice, startled, as if he had just heard something for the first time.

"My God, look at him!" Emmett cried out as Justin gasped. "I can see him! He IS a dreamboat!"

"I can see him, too!" Justin exclaimed as his grip tightened in my hand. "And...And he's coming closer!"

"Do not move," Marilyn commanded us as Nathaniel began to approach the table. "Let him come. Let him come toward the light; I sense no hostility in him, only uncertainty." She placed her fingers on either side of her temple. "Come," she beseeched him quietly. "Come and be reunited with Asa. Come to the light. Do not be afraid. Let him reach out to you and you will obtain the happiness you seek."

We all watched, partly scared shitless but totally fascinated, as the apparition seemed to float effortlessly toward us; he was so bright now that it almost hurt my eyes to watch, but I couldn't look away. My heart began to pound as I gripped Justin's hand tightly and held my breath. The apparition came closer and closer until we were inches apart. I watched as he seemed to study my face; I thought I saw his eyes actually blink as he seemed to come to a decision. Giving me a slight nod, he turned as I watched him extend his hand toward the center of the table, now alight with both his form's radiance as well as from the candlelight. The wicks erupted forth with a large flame then as if a wind had bolstered them when I saw what appeared to be another, glowing hand slowly rising out of the middle candle, straight toward Nathaniel's. I watched, amazed and astounded, as their hands reached to clasp each other's.

"My love," I thought I heard Nathaniel say, followed by a heartfelt cry that sounded like a 'thank you' before his form began to transform into a slim slip of light and then, in a flash, I watched it appear to be sucked into the flame. All the candles abruptly were extinguished then, leaving us all suddenly in the dark. The difference was dramatic and profound as we all sat there, hearing only our ragged breaths now as we all tried to calm our breathing down after what had just happened.

After a few seconds, I heard what sounded like sniffling coming from directly across me. Reaching inside my pocket, I fished around for my cigarette lighter and flicked it to life; it at least provided enough guidance for Mysterious Marilyn to rise from her seat and walk over to the wall to turn up the dimmer switch and cast the room in soft luminescence.

I watched as she flipped back her hair wearily with the back of her hand like Cher would do before she stated melodramatically, "My job here is done."

I let out a breath of relief as I looked over at Emmett. Tears were streaming down his face and he had his hands clasped together as if in prayer while he blurted out with a sigh, "That was _so_ romantic." I looked over at Justin, whose own eyes were glistening, and knew I was in trouble. One sappy, nelly queen was bad enough; two sentimental romantics were one too many. I had to admit to myself, though; it was sort of satisfying in a way to know that the wandering souls had apparently been reunited at last. I would never tell anyone that, though. "Well," I drawled, "that was one hell of a White Party!"

I let go of Justin's hand to scoot back from the chair, surveying the odd collection of items on the table. The candles were cooling off, now looking neglected and forlorn in the new, harsh reality of the light above. They didn't look like anything special now; certainly not the passageway between our world and some netherworld we couldn't see. Had it all really happened? I could almost pretend that it had all been my imagination, but I knew better - it had been all too real.

Emmett sniffled again as he and Justin rose from their chairs, all of us standing there as if we didn't know what to do. Everything seemed so anti-climactic now in light of what had just happened.

"I wonder what they saw on the other side," I heard Emmett muse. He smiled wistfully before he added softly, "Maybe they'll say hello to Godiva for me."

Justin smiled fondly at him as he hurriedly wiped away some unshed tears with the side of his hand before reassuring him, "I'm sure they will." He took a deep breath, probably feeling as relieved as I was that we at last were rid of my admirer. It seemed like such a long time since Justin and I had been alone in our own house. I was going to thoroughly enjoy getting reacquainted tonight. Which reminded me - first we had to get rid of some _other_ unwelcome visitors...

"Uh, it's been...unreal," I told Mysterious Marilyn. "I would say we'll have to do this again sometime, but there's no way in hell I'd want to." I reached over to try and grab the crystal ball to hurry things along, but she clamped one surprisingly strong hand around my wrist to stop me.

"No one touches the sacred items but me," she scolded me as I rolled my eyes. She smirked. "You can keep the feather, though, Honey, as a memento." She scooped up the crystal ball and pedestal carefully, placing it gingerly back into the satchel before picking up the rest of the items to prepare to leave.

"How much is this little ghost extermination trip going to cost me?" I asked curiously, realizing I had never found that out beforehand. I had no idea how much ghost exorcisms went for nowadays on the current market.

She smiled serenely at me. "Already taken care of," she told me as she glanced over at Justin. "And I can tell you that jealousy doesn't run cheap." Justin promptly blushed like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I could only begin to imagine how much THAT was going to run, then; if it was proportional to my partner's jealousy, it might very well wind up being a fucking fortune. But I figured I would take whatever Justin had paid for it out of his hot, not-so-little bubble butt later. It might take him forever to pay me back, though, but I decided that would be half the fun.

* * *

_Later that Evening..._

Justin let out a soft sigh beside me as we lay curled up together, warm and fully sated, our lower limbs twined and my arm curled around his shoulders as he lay his head on my chest. "It's so good to finally have some peace and quiet again," he murmured in post-coital contentment. I could certainly agree with that statement. We had both waited with slightly tense breaths to make sure our ghostly voyeur did not appear again, but at last everything finally appeared back to normal - no ghosts and no raccoons, either.

I smiled as I kissed the top of his head. "And also not to have an audience while we fuck." I never thought I would feel that way - I had always been the ultimate exhibitionist when it came to showing off what I had - and WHO I had - but I found that over time that had changed. Now I found that I only wanted Justin - and what we had - all to myself.

Justin lifted his head to stare into my eyes, a knowing, smug smile lighting up his face.

"What?" I asked, somehow knowing what was going to come out of his mouth before he uttered it.

"Did you really mean it?"

Playing along, I replied innocently, "Mean what?"

"What you said before, Brian. About us being...soulmates." He said the last word differently somehow - almost reverently.

I averted my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sunshine," I muttered.

I heard him chuckle before he reached up to grasp my chin with surprising strength and force me to look directly into his eyes. _Little fucker always DID know me too well..._Just like it frequently did, my heart fluttered in response as he asked me softly, "You really think of us as soulmates, Brian? Like Asa and Nathaniel are?" I could hear just a touch of the tentative, vulnerable, teenage-boy in his voice, so like that first night we had met, and I knew I couldn't lie to him, even if it WOULD damage my studly reputation.

I sighed before smiling tenderly at him. "Yes, Sunshine, I meant it," I admitted as his face lit up in reaction. "Are you happy now?"

He climbed on top of me as an answer and began to rain light kisses all over my face and chest, making my cock begin to spring to attention. " Very," he told me as we kissed deeply then, my arms holding onto his as our passion flared once more. As we broke off our kiss, I swooped in for another one, only to have Justin place his fingers across my lips to stop me. "There is one more thing that would make me happy, though," he told me. "I think it's only right."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," I told him as he hit me lightly on the chest with his hand. "...but what?"

As Justin began to explain, I had to grudgingly admit that it would make _me_ happy, too.

* * *

_Early spring_

I stood near the gravesite, watching as Justin carefully tamped down the dirt around the red tulips he had just planted. I had to admit - the stone he had chosen was simple but elegant. The inscription etched on it was sentimental and outrageously romantic. But as he stood up to join me and I placed my hand on his shoulder blade to draw him closer to me, I couldn't help thinking how appropriate it was.

_Nathan Drake - Beloved Companion of Asa Wilcox_

_My Love is Boundless Like the Ocean_

"It feels very peaceful here," Justin murmured as we looked around at the flowering shrubs and brilliant green leaves of the shade trees. The elaborate, black wrought iron fence surrounding the gravesite - previously rusty, faded, and forlorn-looking - was now painted a glossy ebony color and shone under the bright sun overhead, and the grass was neatly manicured. Looking at the scene resembling an intricate creation, it was easy to see that an artist's hand had been responsible for it.

"Yeah, it does," I murmured beside him as I leaned my head to touch his and nuzzle it briefly in affection as I cupped my hand around his neck. Since the séance, Nathaniel had never appeared again, but a sense of strength and warmth had prevailed afterward and we no longer feared being spied upon anymore.

"Do you really think there is an afterlife, Brian? One like Mysterious Marilyn described, I mean?"

"I don't know, Justin," I told him honestly as he slid his arm around my waist while we just stood there, gazing at the grave. "At least not like she described. But I don't think I can deny that something exists after we leave here - not after what _we _saw." I turned him in my arms to face me as I smiled down at him tenderly. "Whatever it's like, though, I know it will be okay. Because you'll be there with me."

He smiled up at me radiantly then as we came together for a deep kiss, the sun seeming to shine just a little brighter as we did.

Chapter End Notes:

* * *

_That's it! Sorry it's a few days past Halloween; I tried, but it just grew larger than I anticipated.;) Thank you for reading my not-so-spooky tale. Hope you enjoyed it.;) _


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